


Starting over (but not really)

by bookingit



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friendship, Guilt, I am Really Bad at summaries, Karen's journey since leaving Vermont, also at tagging, nosy people on the bus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-24 18:39:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17709443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookingit/pseuds/bookingit
Summary: Karen Page boards the bus headed for New York City feeling untethered.  Still, she finds the will to pull out a notebook and pen, the strength to write a letter.  She writes, and continues to do so through everything that follows.





	Starting over (but not really)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, y’all! I’ve been wanting to write something for this lovely fandom for a while, so… ta-da!  
> I finally did it!  
> Writers love feedback! (You probably knew that already) Leave kudos! Leave comments! Leave a burnt offering to Steve Lightfoot! 
> 
> Now let’s begin.

Dear Mom, 

I’m writing this to you because my high-as-a-kite brain thought it’d be a good idea. And because Kevin told me that he’d been writing some letters to you, and he thought it was helping him. Or maybe it actually wasn’t helping and that was just him trying to help me. It wouldn’t surprise me; he was kind like that, just trying to make things better. He did write letters, though; I have them all in a box in my suitcase, although I haven’t read any of them. I don’t know what would be in them, because I never asked him how he was feeling. 

God, Mom, what kind of a sister was I? What kind of a messed-up sister goes through the loss of her mother and never thinks to ask her little brother if he's OK? I was supposed to take care of him, and I was too selfish, too high, too messed up not to mess up the only good thing I had. He must have felt so alone, Mom. Dad wouldn’t have been open to talking about kev's feelings. I could have been there for him like he was for me, but I… 

I think the high is wearing off, my hands are shaking less right now than they were earlier. I had to rewrite the first three sentences four damn times because I couldn’t read my own handwriting. It’s been three hours since I had to close this notebook to deflect questions from the guy sitting next to me, and then I fell asleep somewhere around the Vermont/Pennsylvania border. And now I’m awake, and Chandler or Chad or whatever his name is is asleep with his hood over his face and earbuds in. I got on this Greyhound bus with the intention to never return home to Vermont, but that just seems like running away from Kevin, acting like he never existed, and he did. I had a baby brother, and his name was Kevin Page; he was sweet, and brave, and he liked music and made the best eggs this side of the Mississippi. 

See, Mom, I’m going to go to NYC to make another life for myself. And next year, on Kev’s birthday (he would have been seventeen), and the year after that, and every year until I die, I’m going to drive for six hours until I pass that sign that says “Welcome to Vermont”, and I’m going to spend the time I should have with my baby brother; I’ll stay there in the graveyard past sunset talking to him, leave him some daffodils. I'll even pour pepsi onto the ground in front of his tombstone, just like he’d have wanted me to. He deserved so much more than what I, what any of us gave him, Mom. I don’t think it could be possible for anyone on this green earth to deserve that boy. Give him a kiss for me, please. 

Your daughter,  
Karen


End file.
